Page 28

Chapter twenty-eight

Jessica

T he air in Las Vegas is dry, crisp. The kind of air that seems to hang onto the brightness of the sun for hours, even when the neon lights of the city start flickering on, casting their glow on the streets.

But we aren’t anywhere near the bright lights of the strip. Eric and I are driving away from all that glitz and chaos, the weight of the moment pressing against us, palpable and heavy. I keep my hands still in my lap, trying not to fidget, though the tension racing inside me makes that hard.

I glance over at Eric, his jaw tight as he stares at the road ahead. His hands grip the wheel a little harder than usual, knuckles white against the leather. Lunch with Jake and Allie earlier was light and easy, but I know this isn’t. We told them we were heading out to meet Linda, and they wished us luck, but it was clear that the mood had shifted the moment we left the restaurant. Now, it’s silent between us, but not the comfortable kind of silence we’ve grown used to. This one’s filled with all the questions Eric hasn’t asked yet, and the answers neither of us knows if he’s ready to hear.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, breaking the silence.

Eric takes a deep breath, but his eyes stay focused on the road. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess I won’t know until I see her. I just… what if I don’t get the answers I need?”

“You’ll get something,” I say, offering him a small smile. “It might not be exactly what you’re expecting, but it’ll be something.”

He nods, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease. I know what this means to him—the confrontation he’s spent the last few weeks avoiding, the mother he believed was gone, and now the chance to hear the truth from her directly.

We pull into the parking lot of Sunrise Rehabilitation Center. The facility is beautiful, nothing like what you might picture when you hear the word “rehab.” It’s set away from the chaos of the city, nestled in a peaceful desert landscape with mountains rising in the distance. There’s a serenity to the place that makes me feel at ease, and I hope Eric feels the same.

He parks the car and stares at the entrance for a long moment. I reach over, resting my hand on his arm, feeling the tightness in his muscles. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know,” he says quietly, glancing at me, his blue eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you for coming.”

We step out of the car together, the sun warm on our backs, and make our way inside. The receptionist smiles at us warmly, and I notice how calm and inviting the space feels. Plants line the walls, soft music plays in the background, and there’s an atmosphere of healing here, of recovery.

“We’re here to see Linda Warren,” Eric says, his voice steady, though I can hear the undercurrent of nerves.

The receptionist checks the system and gives a nod. “She’s in the back. I’ll page her for you. Please have a seat.”

We sit in the waiting area, and I can feel Eric’s leg bouncing next to me. I want to reach over and still it, but I don’t. He’s holding onto so much right now, so many conflicting emotions. It’s not my place to calm them—it’s his moment to face whatever comes next.

After what feels like an eternity, a woman appears in the hallway, walking toward us slowly. Her steps falter for a second when she sees Eric, and I know at once who she is. Linda Warren. Eric’s mom. They have similar features.

She’s petite, with graying hair pulled into a loose bun, her face lined with years of experience, struggle, and perhaps healing. Her eyes, though, are unmistakably Eric’s—blue and deep, the kind that seem to hold stories that run far below the surface. She stops a few feet away, her hands shaking slightly as she clasps them together.

“Eric,” she says, her voice trembling. “You’re… you’re here.”

Eric stands, his body tense, and I rise with him, staying close but giving them space. “Yes, I’m Eric. I’m… here to see you.” His voice is tight, like he’s holding back a flood of emotion.

Linda takes a step forward, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ve followed your career,” she explains her familiarity with him before we’ve even introduced ourselves. Her eyes are soft, her voice breaking with emotion. “I’ve seen every game, Eric. I—I know who you are.”

Eric’s eyes narrow, confusion flashing across his face. “What? I was told you were… Then why… why weren’t you in my life? Why did I have to grow up thinking you were… dead?”

The question hangs in the air between them, thick and heavy, and I see the tears spill over onto Linda’s cheeks. She clasps her hands tighter together, struggling for words. “I’m so sorry, Eric,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought it was the only way to protect you.”

Eric’s brow furrows, and I can feel the frustration rising in him, the confusion and hurt he’s carried for so long. “Protect me? From what?”

Linda takes a deep breath, composing herself. She gestures to the facility around her. “From me.”

Eric blinks, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

She wipes her tears, her gaze shifting to the ground before meeting his eyes again. “I was a mess back then, Eric. I was a teenager when I had you; hooked on drugs, lost in my own world. I wasn’t fit to raise you. I could barely take care of myself.” Her voice breaks as she continues. “Your grandparents… they stepped in. They paid for the best rehab in the country—this place. I’ve been here ever since. This place saved my life.”

Eric stands there, taking it all in, but the anger in his voice is undeniable. “But why didn’t you come back for me? You got clean, you’ve been here, working, living… why didn’t you come back?”

Linda looks like she’s about to break apart. “Because I was terrified that if I left here, I’d fall apart again… that I’d relapse. As an addict,” she sighs heavily, “the urges never go away completely. As your mom, I couldn’t risk a relapse. I couldn’t go back to you. I’m so sorry.”

My heart goes out to her and I want to pull her into a hug, but I hold back. This moment isn’t about me.

“Your grandparents knew all about my struggles, about my temptations. They raised you in a stable home, gave you everything I couldn’t. I thought that was best for you.”

I can see the wheels turning in Eric’s mind, trying to reconcile this version of his mother with the one he’d built up in his head —the mother who had abandoned him. But this woman standing in front of him, broken and remorseful, wasn’t someone who left out of neglect or indifference. She left out of fear, and I can tell that’s a hard thing for Eric to process.

“You’ve been here this whole time,” Eric says quietly, his voice softening just a little. “You’ve been here, and you knew about me.”

Linda nods, tears falling again. “Your grandparents kept me in the know. I watched from a distance, saw you become this incredible person… someone I never had the right to claim as mine.” She steps closer, cautiously. “But I always loved you. I never stopped.”

Eric’s eyes glisten, and for the first time, I see the anger begin to drain out of him. He stands there, looking at her—this woman who’s lived in the shadows of his life, yet always present in some way. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to pull in all the pieces of his past and fit them together.

“I’m proud of you,” Eric finally says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m proud that you got clean. That you’re here now as a nurse, helping so many others. And I… I understand why you did what you did.”

Linda lets out a shaky breath, her whole body seeming to relax. “Thank you,” she whispers, the relief in her voice palpable.

Eric takes a step forward, closing the distance between them, and for the first time in his adult life, he embraces his mother. She clings to him, sobbing softly into his chest, and I feel my heart swell at the sight. This moment—this raw, emotional connection—is what Eric has been missing his whole life. And now, finally, he’s found it.

After a long moment, they pull apart, both of them wiping at their eyes. Eric looks over at me, and I smile softly, giving him the silent support he needs.

“I want to build a relationship with you,” Eric tells Linda, his voice steady. “As my mom, and as a friend. I don’t want to keep living in the past.”

Linda nods, her eyes bright with hope. “I’d like that,” she says. “I’d like that very much.”

Two hours later, we leave the rehab center hand in hand, the weight that Eric has been carrying for years finally lifting. As we walk toward the car, I look up at him, my heart swelling with admiration for the strength he’s shown today.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

He squeezes my hand. “Yeah. I think I am.”

And looking into those soulful, hopeful eyes of his, I can see that he really means it.